


This Might Be It

by winter_rogue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_rogue/pseuds/winter_rogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There comes a point when you say to yourself: self, it’s time to get out of this situation</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Might Be It

**Author's Note:**

> angst_bingo fill "domestic abuse"
> 
> warnings for implied domestic abuse
> 
> So, this story is informed to some degree by some meta posts I've read discussing the physical violence between Derek and Stiles. There have been a couple very good and thoughtful essays floating around (livejournal) discussing whether or not it would be a good thing for this pairing to become actual canon because there is this long established violence dynamic undercutting a lot of their interactions which would just be Not Okay to an exponential power in any sort of romantic relationship. I'm not sure I entirely prescribe to these feelings but I certainly see where these women are coming from and it's a fascinating meta breakdown. 
> 
> This prompt has been really difficult for me to fill and this is definitely NOT the way I would choose to write Derek/Stiles if I wasn't trying to do a full blackout on my card. That being said I think there's certainly precedent for a relationship between these two characters turning out unfortunately hurtful.

There comes a point when you say to yourself: self, it’s time to get out of this situation. Maybe it takes you awhile to get to that place, to recognize that a line you shouldn’t have crossed or that you shouldn’t have let someone else cross has been, well, crossed and you’ve become the sort of person you honestly never imagined you would be. 

You’ve become the person who covers up the bruises with long sleeves and has a ready excuse at hand. The person whose best friend has perfected the art of looking without looking because the one time (the dozen times) they’ve looked at you head on and said something you picked a fight and deflected instead.

If you’d asked Stiles-- well, you wouldn’t have ever asked Stiles. He’s the son of a sheriff and a lawyer, he doesn’t have the face of a victim. Not when it comes to the important things.

When they were more enemies than allies, let alone friends, it had been one thing. Derek Hale was a scary motherfucking werewolf, no two ways about it. In the grand hierarchy-scheme shape of this new fun filled supernatural world he’d stumbled into, Stiles was prey. Prey with a big mouth an acerbic wit, but prey nonetheless. So it hadn’t been very polite, but it was at least understandable in context. And later, when they were still closer to enemies if somewhat reluctant allies but certainly not friends, it had still been unsurprising. In context.

Context.

“New context,” Stiles murmurs sharply to himself, a whisper of breath in the silent house. Isaac is waiting just outside the bedroom door, a stiff looming shadow. Stiles can practically taste his uncomfortable resolve.

It doesn’t take him long to gather the few things he’s left there. It’s not really his home after all. You don’t-- you don’t treat your family like this, after all. He’s got his old duffle bag and a rucksack of stray books and some clothes. Isaac splits the load and shadows him downstairs, proceeds him outside to his care-- the Jeep having finally given up and died for good a couple months previous.

Stiles pauses. He’d wanted this. Or, perhaps more accurately, a perfect version of this: pack, family, partner. And it’s not like he went into it thinking it would be anything approaching normal. You can only swing so much normal when your friends and family are primarily werewolves. But he’s seen the way the other interact, the way they treat the people they love and there’s nothing different about that then what he-- little old human he-- knows. He won’t begrudge Lydia or Allison their happy endings.

“Hey, you sure you got everything?” Isaac asks, scattering his thoughts. 

Stiles nods jerkily and walks blindly out the door. 

“You’re doing the right thing.”

He grimaces.

“The brave thing.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. It’s not easy being-- it’s not easy taking the first step. Sometimes it’s a lot harder to make yourself run away than to stay.”

Theres a terrible sort of _knowing_ to Isaac’s tone that makes the lump in Stiles’ throat try and choke him.

“I don’t feel very brave.”

Throwing around your enemy is one thing; threatening them and bruising them and scaring them; resorting to coercion and force; relying on fear to get what you want. Stiles isn’t sure when he became the battered spouse in this equation but it’s left his guts tied up in knots and shameful bile in the back of his throat.

Stiles tugs the ragged cuff of his sweatshirt down over his wrists, a nervous habit.

“I don’t want it to end like this. I just--” he makes a tangled, frustrated noise through clenched teeth and doesn’t look at Isaac’s face. He doesn’t want to meet his eyes and see pity or, god help them, understanding.

“I told myself it’s a werewolf thing but it’s not just that. Scott’s not like that. You aren’t--” Stiles draws in a shaky breath of air and climbs into the cab of Isaac’s truck. “I want to stay.”

Isaac sits behind the wheel but doesn’t turn over the ignition. His whole body broadcasts a ready signal.

“I don’t want to leave.”

The silence ticks.

“But it’s never going to change if I stay. I can’t-- this is beauty and the beast you know? And I can’t believe I just compared myself to Belle but...” He stares out at the familiar woods as they roll out of the restored Hale driveway. “I’m not sixteen anymore and he’s not supposed to be the boogeyman. I’ve just had _enough_. Can I say that?”

Isaac’s hands flex around the steering wheel. He swallows and doesn’t take his eyes off the road but he says, “Yeah, yeah you can say that.”

End


End file.
